Choices
by Tragedy-of-Sins
Summary: Draco hadn't been excpecting to be killed at the age of 25, but he hadn't been surprised either. He was after all the son of a Death Eater. Draco had been surprised however when during his last hour he found one last chance to change everything. Slash
1. Funny, Father

It was after all only a matter of time. Draco wasn't really surprised that his life had led to this. Ever since the day he had met Potter and had been rejected by him, this was what life had in store for him. A one way ticket to Azkaban, to a dementor for one last kiss.

Really it didn't matter that he had remained neutral during the Second War. No, what had mattered was that he refused to help either side. That he was a Death Eater's son. That he was Lucius Malfoy's son. That he was well known to be the rival of the Boy-Who-Caused-Too-Bloody-Many-Problems.

Here he was one of the richest men in the Wizarding World and he was being locked up in his own house for something that he had never done. He was surrounded by aurors who wanted him dead or alive, but mostly dead, let's face it they were all going for dead.

Currently the head of the Malfoy family was standing in one of the numerous hallways of the Malfoy manor looking into an enchanted mirror. It showed him the front gate of his property. Even though he was most likely not going to survive the night Draco couldn't help but smirk and the incompetence of the Ministry. They couldn't even get past a few _simple_ dark wards. Here he had been thinking that they were supposed to be competent in matters like this. However, Draco was willing to admit that he was wrong on the matter. After all the situation did call for a good laugh at the incompetence of others.

Fiddling with the watch that was currently in his pocket he turned away from the pathetic sight and started down the hall. While they were pretty stupid, it really was only a matter of time before someone with a small ounce of intelligence showed up and disabled the numerous wards placed around his manor. Draco had never been one to give up easily, but there was no way he was going to be cornered into leaving _his_ property. He would rather die fighting for it. Draco would never give up the Malfoy heritage without taking some of them with him.

First though before he got set up for the long battle to come, he had to do something. He had to make sure that the door was locked. The door that no matter how hard he tried or how many unlocking spells he knew, Draco could never get in. This door led to his father's study. A room that Draco had been in countless times before, well before his Father had died for some foolish cause. He had never been in the room without his Father, but he had figured when his Father had been buried on Malfoy soil that it would open for him. The door had remained locked. Draco thought that his Father was just trying to have a last laugh, since that room had everything of importance to the Malfoy's in it. Draco had to work around and guess at the things he needed to keep the family business running. Fortunately for him he was an intelligent man that could make an educated guess on things of that matter. It also helped that he had been learning such things since he was five. Now he was going to die at the ripe old age of 25.

Coming to a halt at the familiar wooden door, Draco sneered at it. Hating the way it mocked him. Draco might have stayed that way a bit longer if the wards hadn't started acting up, signaling that the Ministry's law enforcers were finally starting to chip away at the Malfoy's defenses. Not knowing how much time he had, Draco hurriedly reached out to grab the door knob, intending to just give it a quick twist to make sure that it was still locked.

Click, the door moved inward. Draco stared at the now slightly open door in surprise. The door had opened; it had finally opened after all this time. Even with the situation at hand or maybe because of it, Draco couldn't help but think that his Father was really having the last laugh at him.

Still a bit cautious Draco slowly opened the door and stepped into the darkened interior. The moment that the door had closed behind him several candles lit up automatically casting the room into a shadowy light as the room held no windows.

The room was just as he had remembered it. With a huge mahogany desk taking up most of the room that despite all this time was still cluttered with papers, with quills on one corner and the inks in another. A picture of Draco himself and another of his Mother. The cane that his Father had been well known for was lying on top of the table no longer needed. The leather chair was pushed back slightly giving the impression that Lucius might have been in a rush to leave. The walls were still lined with bookcases that held more than just books. The smell of floo powder was still in the air even though a fireplace was not in sight. Having seen his Father make more than one floo call in here, Draco knew that he only had to push a certain button for the fireplace to appear.

After seeing nothing out of the ordinary on the first glance, Draco gave it another once over. Being cautious was what had kept him alive this long and it might just keep him alive a bit longer. Who knew what sort of things Lucius had set to do to intruders, including his very own son. The spells were probably even set for Draco or his Mother, whichever one Lucius probably found the most amusing at the moment he set them.

During his second glance he saw the letter it was neatly folded and leaning against the cane. Several layers of dust had settled over it, but the blond could still make out his name in his Father's eloquent penmanship. Even as Draco made his way to pick up the letter he wondered if it was set to explode the moment he touched it. His hesitation was understandable, but not appropriate as another warning shook through his body. There really wasn't much time left.

Draco's hand reached out and grasped the old parchment in his hand. He ignored the slight nervousness in his stomach and ripped the seal and opened the letter.

_Draco, _

_I'm going to assume you don't have much time to read this letter, so I thought I should go ahead and make sure this is nice and long. Right now you are probably wondering how in the world I know that you are close to death. I happened to have set the door so that it would only open when you or your Mother were in such a predicament. If she had been the one to open the door something else entirely would have happened and finding a letter wasn't among them. _

_Now there is one thing that I can't stand is not being able to control how things are going to play out. I also hate the fact that I have to admit it, but that's another matter entirely. I'm going to assume that you have no heirs. You most likely wouldn't have wanted to marry that Parkinson girl, couldn't really blame you considering she takes after her mother. Plus you are young why should you have to settle down, especially when neither of your parents are around to pressure you into marrying a pureblood. _

_This topic leads me to my point. As you are in a very tight situation, I shall give you three options on what you can do at this point. _

_The first is that you can stand and defend the Malfoy's ancestral home. You'll most likely die in doing so. No matter how good a wizard you are without Potter's luck at defying the impossible you can't stand up to as many of those Ministry fools that they'll send after you. Now you'll most likely take down a good chunk of them before they get you, at least if you are the Malfoy that I expect you to be. _

_The second option is that you can take the underground passage that leads into the Southern Woods. Which if you decide to take this then you better have every intention of getting revenge on those that dared to set foot upon my land. _

_The third option lies in my top drawer, a potion. Now is not the time to go into all the details of what it can do. A shortened version is that you might live a lot longer than to just seek revenge. This option may even give you a chance to change a couple of things. There is another letter along with the potion. Don't open it; just store it in your pocket to read later. Drink the potion and you should feel the effects immediately. No it's not poison and apparently you should know it the moment you smell it that it's not a poison. That is if your Godfather is not just lying about your skills to protect you…again. _

_Well those are your choices. I expect you to make the right one. Believe me Draco if you don't I will know. _

_Lucius_

What a loving letter, Draco thought a bit sarcastically. He placed the letter in one of his pockets. His Father was right; there really wasn't any time to think about what to do. The wards were now down. The Malfoy Manor was once more being invaded. Draco had to make a decision and it had to be now.


	2. Maturity in Question

There wasn't any real choice in the matter, Draco knew exactly what he was going to do. He unstopped the bottle and sniffed the contents. Just as his Father had said it didn't seem like there was any trace of poison in it. Then again there are some killers that have no smell at all, with a smirk he poured a drop on his skin testing it out. He waited a minute despite the fact that the auror's were now trashing through his once immaculate home. He'd rather take a minute now to make sure he wasn't going to die, than find out as he was lying down on the ground staring up at the ceiling as the poison took its effect. He knew that his Father would not give him anything quick acting.

Draco however also knew that he didn't have the time to see if the potion would in fact burn his finger after longer than a minute. He knew at least he would a bit of time if it was in fact a poison to do some damage to those invaders. So with a slightly regretful sigh he downed the blue liquid in one gulp, it tasted like water and… air?

The world started to sway a bit and Draco wanted to curse himself, thinking that he had in fact been poisoned. His knees gave out and he fell onto his Father's chair. From his position he could see the grandfather clock that was right next to the door, the door that was vibrating. The auror's had found him awfully quick, Draco thought dismally. He could see the second hand moving around the ivory background. He was rather confused when it stopped moving at the one. What a perfect time to break he thought with a laugh. Or he would have laughed if he could. Instead he just closed his eyes and couldn't find the effort to open them anymore.

There didn't seem to be any better feeling than that of floating. At least that was what Draco thought as he started to feel like he was doing just that. Is this what dying is like, because if so it wasn't all that bad. To think that his Father had dreaded this so much that he went to great lengths to avoid it. In the end all those efforts had probably what had led to his death. Draco on the other hand was liking this whole death thing.

To his great dismay it all ended rather sooner than he would have liked. Somebody was shoving at his shoulder, and maybe calling out his name. Yes, he could distinctly hear a female voice calling out Draco, Draco. He couldn't help but smile, thinking that if he listened just right it sounded more like a chant. He did like it when people seemed to worship him, one reason why he liked attending Hogwarts so much.

"Draco come on get up. I am not walking to the school because you made us miss the carriages," Pansy's voice rang out in the train compartment.

"Pansy?" Draco muttered confused trying to force his eyes open, but he couldn't.

"Draco," this time it was said in a whiny voice and dragged his name out in the kind of way that he really disliked. He had always hated when Pansy spoke to him like that, or in that simper she thought was attractive.

He didn't understand why he was suddenly with Pansy, instead of being killed by auror's but he wasn't going to question this reversal of fate. He would do what he did best, take advantage of the situation in order to suit him the most. What it seemed like he needed the most was help, has there was something definitely wrong with him. Not only could he not open his eyes, but he couldn't move any part of his body.

"Pans, need Severus. Get Snape," he tried to get out those words, but talking was becoming harder and harder, as was thinking. At this point he wasn't sure if Pansy had even heard him. In any case it didn't matter how much he could do as he became fully unconscious, the potion having taken the full effect on him.

Draco glared at his head of household as he sat on the bed in the hospital wing. Snape had been questioning for the last ten minutes and Draco felt that he had better things to be doing than listening to the inane chatter of the man. How should he know why he collapsed on the train, he couldn't remember. The last thing he could recall was bothering _Potter_ and his group of do-gooder friends. Draco felt fine now and really wanted to get down to the Great Hall before Crabbe and Goyle ate all the good deserts.

"It's important that we figure out what was wrong with you Draco so that we don't see a repeat performance. Pansy said you asked for me specifically. Do you recall why?" Snape asked for what seemed like the tenth time.

"No, I have no idea why I would. You can ask me the same questions over again, but beyond what I've already told you I don't know what happened. I want to go down to the feast before it's over," Draco told Snape hoping that the man would give up and let him go.

"Unfortunately, that is not up to me and Madame Pomfrey as deemed that it would be much more to your benefit to stay here for the remainder of the night. Ms. Parkinson can handle the prefect duties for tonight." With that Snape left the room in a swirl of his black ropes.

The blond couldn't help but snort at the exaggerated method of leaving; Snape did have a tendency towards the dramatic. Not that Draco didn't do the same, but the fact of the matter was that he just did it so much better.

Annoyed that he was going to have to spend the night in complete boredom, Draco flopped back onto the bed and glared at the wall across from him. He could have been down in the Slytherin common room lording it over the others that he was made prefect. He could have had the whole room listening to his every word on how he had spent his summer and how they wished that they could be him. No instead the great Slytherin Prince was sitting on an uncomfortable bed alone and miserable.

They better at least bring him some decent food. All he had eaten was that junk on the train and that was ages ago. Even now it felt like his stomach was going to go on protest from lack of food. Malfoy's however did not show such base signs of being human. At least that was what his Father had always told him. That to appear less than perfect was beneath them.

Sighing, he looked around the room looking for something to distract him from thinking about his hunger. His eyes however landed on the robe that he had been wearing in the train. He couldn't remember if he had left a chocolate frog in one of the pockets are not. He really hoped so, if not he was definitely going to have to demand that food be brought up to him. There was no way that he was going to go the whole night without eating.

Reaching over he grabbed the robe off the chair it was sitting on. Draco rifled through one pocket and found nothing, the second one however there was a letter with his name on the front. He recognized his Father's handwriting, but he didn't remember his father giving him a letter when they had said good bye on platform 9 ¾.

Shrugging he shoved it back into his pocket and was pleasantly surprised when his fingers did in fact graze something else in there. Eagerly he pulled out the mysterious object. Growling he tossed the comb onto the table where his wand had been placed. This would not do at all. He would just have to go talk to Madame Pomfrey about how she should be taking care of patients.


End file.
